


so tell me when it kicks in

by montecarlos



Category: Formula 1 RPF, Formula E RPF
Genre: Affairs, Angst, Break Up, M/M, Memories, Oral Sex, Past Relationship(s), Post-Break Up, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 18:13:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13059423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/montecarlos/pseuds/montecarlos
Summary: It becomes part of their routine - fingers brushing against one another, lips tentatively searching, scratchy overalls falling from sweat-covered skin. Every city, every place they meet in blurs together into a palimpsest of lights, of sheets and of hushed whispers.Jev and Sam try to find themselves in each other.





	so tell me when it kicks in

**Author's Note:**

  * For [circuitricardoporno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/circuitricardoporno/gifts).



> Thanks to Jazz and Ailisha for cheerleading and kicking my ass throughout this entire process. Title from Ed Sheeran's Bloodsteam, which served as an inspiration for this entire fic.
> 
> For my wonderful wife, Nino, who has stuck with me through thick and thin. Merry Christmas darling, I hope you enjoy this.

_I feel the chemicals burn in my bloodstream_ _  
_ _So tell me when it kicks in  
_

* * *

_  
_ They were happy once. They were once fingers curling together, hands fisting into rumpled bedsheets, whispers brushing through swollen lips. It seems like so long ago - Jev wasn’t even sure how it all began. Jev was in Andretti overalls, _he_ was in his Virgin overalls. He remembers that night in frames - his hand curled around a glass of wine, a flicker of a smile, bright blue eyes burning across the room -  
  
It was supposed to end that night. It was fucking _Christmas Eve_ of all nights. Jev had pressed him into the bedsheets, the clothes falling away under his fingertips. He’d smirked up at Jev - almost like cheering him on, _come on mate I doubt you even could dare_ \- but he had. Their lips had collided together before the memory fades away like alcohol on a tongue the morning after. Jev had woken up, the sunlight streaming through the window. He was curled up underneath the wrinkled sheets, sleeping soundly. His blonde hair had shone like a halo, framing his face. Jev had drunk in the sight of him, blinking as though to dispel the image. He knows he should go. He knows it was all a mistake - it’s never good to mix business with pleasure.  
  
But as he pulls himself from the sheets, from the mistake, his soft voice brushes through the air. Jev’s hands still on the rough material of his shirt - everything feels wrong, nothing feels familiar, like home - only _his_ skin could feel that way anymore.  
  
“Going so soon?” He smirks at Jev, his blue eyes shining in the dim light. “Thought we could have a repeat performance,”  
  
“It’s Christmas Day,” Jev says quietly. “Don’t you have family to be getting to?”  
  
“Maybe,” He has a smirk on his face. “But it’s still early,”  
  
Jev knows he shouldn’t play with fire. But there’s something hidden in his expression, something that Jev wants to explore, to pull apart and piece back together. He finds himself back on the bed, their bodies connecting as their lips meet. They shouldn’t, Jev shouldn’t be here - but he is. They drink in each other, no longer blurred by alcohol. Jev glances down at him, at the smirk playing over the corners of his lips and he wants nothing more to kiss it away.  
  
So he does.

* * *

  
Jev’s shirt is scratchy against his skin, against the bruise on his neck, the bruise made by _his_ lips. His thoughts keep going back to that moment, to the blurry memories of lips on skin, of his name pulled over swollen saliva-covered lips, of the used condom dropping from shaking fingers. It wasn’t supposed to happen. He could blame the drink, could blame the smirk that dripped from his lips. It’s probably easier to do that, to bury it and call it a one off.  
  
He pushes him to the back of his mind. It was nothing more than a mistake, he tells himself, he needed to blow off some steam. But the doubt slowly begins to creep back into his life - he dreams of soft lips, of blonde hair and heavy-lidded eyes. His hand slips beneath his clothes, curling around his weeping cock. A sigh pushes past his lips as he thinks about _him_ again, about the way he says his name - almost butchering it in his British accent. He shouldn’t do this - it was a one time thing, and he needs to move on with his life.  
  
But it isn’t a one time thing. He finds himself exploring his own body, thinking about a familiar touch, about blue eyes and swollen lips curving into a smile - he comes with a gasp, the stickiness clinging to the thin material of his boxer shorts. The warmth curls around his lower abdomen, like the touch of an ex-lover. He hates himself for it.    
  
But he hates _him_ more.

* * *

  
He told himself he wouldn’t get tangled up in business again. He’d had been through that with Daniel - back when they were a pair of stupid teenagers with bad hair, bad teeth and bad choices. But Daniel had made him forget everything, all the stress of being thrown into the spotlight at Toro Rosso.  They had ended up in between the sheets, his hands twisting into the pillows as Daniel had glanced down at him with shining eyes.  
  
“This is just a one time thing,” Jev had told him and Daniel had just smirked, like he was privy to some secret joke.  
  
But it wasn’t a one time thing. Those years had blurred together into hidden encounters in hotel rooms, hands brushing underneath tables in the press room, snatched kisses that tasted of sweat and petrol -  
  
They had burned bright; but inevitably,  like a fire, it was inexplicable that they would eventually burn out. And they did, one night at the end of the season.  
  
“I love you,” Daniel had whispered against his lips that night.  
  
Jev had frozen against his lips.  
  
“Don’t you feel the same?” Daniel had asked, his eyes full of hope.  
  
He never got the answer to his question. Jev had pushed Daniel away with hot tears falling down his cheeks and shaking hands. He’d walked away - his chest aching, leaving fragments of himself behind.  
  
Fragments he buried deep in himself, never to be recovered.

* * *

  
He went back to him. _New year, new start_ , he’d told himself, but it was inevitable, Jev thinks - he could never get too much of a good thing. Surprise had flooded _his_ face when he’d opened the door to Jev, still wrapped up in his Moncler jacket, snow covering his shoulders.  
  
“Didn’t expect to see you here,“ His voice was slightly guarded, like his expression.  
  
“Didn’t expect it myself,“ Jev answers honestly as he closes the gap between them, their lips sealing together like they were supposed to. They kiss slowly, softly, his tongue slowly tracing over the curve of Jev’s lips, mapping out every inch like Jev is an unexplored continent. Jev finds his hands moving to fist into the back of his shirt, pulling him closer, craving that contact -  
  
He makes a small sound of satisfaction against Jev’s lips. Jev can feel the teasing smile brushing against his skin, the warmth slowly curving up inside his abdomen as the kiss deepens and the door slams shut behind them. He leads Jev through to his bedroom. It looks the same as it did before - but Jev can’t help but wonder if he’s had anyone else in here, if he kissed them like he kissed him -  
  
His hands brush against fabric. “I can’t do this-“ He murmurs softly, trying not to glance down at saliva-covered lips.  
  
“Why not?” He asks, blue eyes shining in the dim light.  
  
“We shouldn’t-” Jev says, shaking his head, but he just smirks at him, his lips curving into a smile. He moves closer and Jev can see the tiny freckles on the bridge of his nose, can feel the breath brushing against his cheek. He can feel his resolve slipping away, like water through palms - it’s inevitable.  
  
“You sure about that?” He says quietly, his eyes locking with Jev’s.  
  
And Jev can’t say a word. Lips find each other once more, hands map, breaths are taken, slowly but surely - Jev deepens the kiss, his tongue seeking the warmth of the other’s mouth. He groans against Jev, fisting his hand into the long dark hair at the nape of his neck. Jev missed this, missed this sense of completion as he ruts against him, capturing every moment and filing it away. His eyes are dark - almost like sapphires as they gaze up at Jev, as he presses them into rumpled sheets and the whole cycle begins again.  
  
He’s addicted and he can’t stop, he thinks as he presses inside him, as _he_ calls out his name like a mantra, like a prayer.  
  
“ _Jean_ ,”  
  
It’s low, soft - everything in contrast with what they’re doing - warmth blending into their surroundings, burning bright. It seems like nothing but Jev knows it’s everything.

* * *

  
It becomes part of their routine - fingers brushing against one another, lips tentatively searching, scratchy overalls falling from sweat-covered skin. Every city, every place they meet in blurs together into a palimpsest of lights, of sheets and of hushed whispers.  
  
“Be quiet, someone will hear us,” Jev whispers as he fucks him against the door of the hotel room.  
  
More secrets. More bruises, more touches mapping out every inch of pale skin.  
  
He just replies with a smirk, as he usually does.  
  
“And?“ He says, almost challenging. “I didn’t think it mattered to you,”  
  
Jev grits his teeth. “I’m not gay,”  
  
“I never said you were,” He replies, the smile still on his face. He doesn’t say anything else but he doesn’t need to. The bruises on his skin, on his neck from Jev’s mouth say it all.

* * *

  
It becomes like an itch that needs to be scratched over time. Jev spots him at races and fights the urge to touch, to possess - as he walks past with his team wearing his mirrored sunglasses, his sun-kissed blonde hair glinting in the bright light. He _knows_. He knows that Jev is staring at him, that he’s fighting to stay away. 

But Jev gets his own way. He slams him against the cool walls of the garage, their lips colliding in a snarl. _Mine, mine, mine._ Jev wants to possess, to own every inch of him. He knows he shouldn’t. It’s a danger for him to be in too deep - to want, to _need_ . But every touch reminds Jev of what he has and he doesn’t want to give it up. So he carries on the charade, pretends that they’re just friends - friends that spend nights in each other’s hotel rooms, friends that end up with each other’s cocks in their mouths, warm come smeared in the corner of lips.  
  
Jev wonders when it will end. It won’t last forever - people like them, things like this aren’t supposed to, they’re supposed to crumble and fade away into nothing.  
  
“Sam,” He turns to him after one night - he thinks they’re in Paris, but he’s not sure, it tends to blur into one - Sam glances at him with a question in his eyes.  
  
“Yeah?” Sam says slowly, taking in Jev’s naked form curled up in the sheets.  
  
Jev wants to say those three words, he can feel them bubbling up beyond the surface. But he can’t. He can’t do that - they’re nothing but kisses, light touches, a fling. They can never be anything more than that.  
  
“Nothing,” Jev replies, not wanting to spoil the moment.  
  
They make love again. Jev feels the anxiety melt away under kisses, touches, under breathily sighs of his name.

* * *

  
“You’re moving to Virgin?” Sam’s words sound like an accusation. ”You didn’t say anything,”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Jev says, moving in to capture his lips.  
  
He doesn’t say Sam was the reason he wanted to move. It seemed like a logical choice for them both - less questions to be asked about the amount of time they spent together, to allow whatever it was between them to continue.  
  
Jev wasn’t ready to let go of this, not yet.  
  
“I don’t know-” Sam begins.  
  
“No more running and hiding in the garage,” Jev whispers against Sam’s lips, feeling the blonde’s anger melt away.  
  
It’s a logical decision for both of them.

* * *

  
It’s so much easier to be together this way. They continue on whatever it is - Jev doesn’t want to define it - is it a fling or something more? He isn’t sure - all he’s sure of is how good he feels when he’s fucking Sam, how the world seems to stop when they’re curled up in between sweaty sheets, how his skin burns from Sam’s lips, the bruises sucked into his collarbone.  
  
It’s easy to carry on, to continue the dance. Knocks on wood, hotel keys pressed into sweaty palms, all just a part of the game.  
  
They even manage to fuck in the back of the garage. Jev isn’t sure where they are and he doesn’t care. All he cares about is the way that Sam calls his name, carefully, quietly - the rustle of Nomex overalls, of smacking lips, of mechanics working in neighbouring garages. Nothing matters in that moment, Jev thinks, as he presses a gentle kiss against Sam’s forehead, as they lean into each other once more.  
  
I could fall in love with you, he thinks.

* * *

  
It carries on, through the year.  It’s Sam’s lips are warm against his own - demanding, familiar, like they belong there. Jev deepens the kiss, his tongue running over the crease of the blonde’s lips. Sam smiles against his mouth, his hands moving to twist into dark curls, fingers brushing through the strands of slightly sweaty hair. His other hand moves lower, with intent, folding down into Jev’s boxers. Jev gasps against his mouth as he feels warmth envelope his weeping dick. 

“Been thinking about you all day,” Sam murmurs thickly as he pulls his lips away, smiles as Jev’s shirt slowly falls from his body.  
  
It’s slow and steady this time - nothing like they’re used to. It’s usually hot, heavy, rushed, no need to take anything in, a release. But this time feels different. Sam’s fingers feel like fire against his warm skin. They burn, they mark - _mine, mine, mine_ \- and Jev takes a deep breath to stop himself from going under.  
  
Sam’s hand lazily brushes against his hardening dick and Jev exhales slowly as their eyes meet, as they slowly begin to lose themselves in each other. Sam’s shirt follows Jev’s down to the floor, his hands still burning into Jev’s skin as he pushes him down into the sheets, mouthing words into his throat.  
  
They’re exactly what Jev wants to hear. He stiffens a little as Sam’s fingers gently brush against the curve of his ass, moving closer to his hole. Sam smirks at him - as he always does, before he slowly pushes his fingers in. He slowly stretches Jev out, sweat building on their skin, lips colliding against one another.  
  
Jev can feel himself falling apart underneath Sam’s touch. He pleads for the release. Another smirk, another game. But Sam yields. His fingers are replaced by his thick, heavy cock and Jev’s mind explodes with stars as he slowly brushes against his prostate.

* * *

  
They collapse against each other, Sam still buried inside him. Sam pants out, his breath rolling out against Jev’s cheek.  
  
“I love you,” Sam whispers and Jev feels the facade break.  
  
This wasn’t supposed to happen.

* * *

  
Jev barely remembers the moments after that. He had ripped himself away, unable to stop his mind from wandering, from repeating Sam’s words. Love isn’t something he wants. Love is complicated, he doesn’t want complicated. He buries his feelings deep inside, ignores Sam’s hurt glances that seem to cut him deeper than he expected, as he throws on his clothes. They’re scratchy against his sensitive skin but he doesn’t care right now - he has to go, he has to get out of here, he’s drowning and it _hurts_ -  
  
He doesn’t say goodbye to Sam. He knows he should, he knows that this is it. They can never go back to what they were before this. They’re trapped, trapped in some stupid game with no chance of escape.  
  
The bruises on his neck from Sam’s lips ache even as he walks further away from the blonde.

* * *

  
Jev tries to ignore the situation over the break - tries to focus on Christmas, spending time with family and friends. But Sam is never far from his mind. He thinks of Sam later that night, back in his old bedroom in his parent’s house - of swollen lips, of the way Sam gasped out his name as they made love. His fingers fumble into his thin cotton boxers and he finds himself gasping out Sam’s name between gritted teeth and fighting against the release.  
  
“When are you going to find a nice woman or man to spend your Christmas with?” His mother asks, dishing up roast potatoes. Jev smiles at her, makes some stupid excuse about being busy with work. He finds himself checking his phone in between mouthfuls of Christmas dinner, even after his mom tells him to put the damn thing away.  
  
Sam doesn’t message at all during the day.  
  
Jev doesn’t expect him to but his heart still aches at the sight of his blank screen.

* * *

  
The new year begins again with hangovers, with hushed promises, with half-eaten Christmas food and empty wine glasses.  
  
There’s no word from Sam but Jev checks on his social media accounts. He seems to be having a good time - all of his photos are carefully selected; a crafted tree, a pile of wrapped presents, surely wrapped by his mom, a photo of him with his dog in a Christmas jumper.  
  
He looks good, Jev thinks as his hands slip into his boxers again. He wanks off to the photo of Sam shamelessly before curling up in the bedsheets, his underwear and sheets wet with come.  
  
His hand has nothing on Sam.

* * *

   
It’s February before he sees _him_ again - it hurts to even think of his name, takes him back to the time that he refused to even say his name, out of fear that it would become something else. He tries to focus on the race ahead, on the job ahead and not on the races before this one, not on Sam gasping out his name against the banked wall of tyres, of rattling Nomex and catching breaths. He barely slept last night. The bed seemed too large for him and his thoughts kept straying, wondering where Sam was, if his bed seemed too big, if he had the same knot in his chest, the same sense of dread.  
  
Jev catches glimpses of blonde hair in the garage the next day and his heart _aches_ .  
  
He misses him more than he would like to admit.

* * *

  
“You going to ignore me forever?” His voice shakes more than he anticipated. Sam’s shoulders stiffen at the sound, his fingers - fingers that Jev knows so well - freeze on the velcro collar of his overalls.  
  
“Depends,” Sam replies flatly. “You going to stop being a dick?”  
  
Jev worries his lip. He deserved that, he knows that. “Sam-”  
  
“You left,” Sam’s voice is an accusation.“Did you really expect to just walk back in and everything would be fine?”  
  
“No but I-”  
  
“You, what?” Sam spins around. His cheeks are slightly red, his hair tousled and his collar is hanging open. He looks beautiful.  
  
Jev catches his breath and takes a step closer to Sam. “Shut up,” He says, glancing at Sam’s lips, feeling the ache in his chest slowly unwind.  
  
“And what if I don’t?” Sam’s voice is a challenge.  
  
Jev loves a challenge. He closes the gap between them, sealing their lips together.  
  
Inevitability. That’s the closest word Jev could find to describe them, he thinks as Sam’s tongue brushes over his lips.

* * *

  
It’s easy to slip back into the way things were - Jev’s mouth on Sam’s dick, Sam’s hands in Jev’s hair tugging, belonging. Sam doesn’t speak of that night, of what he said and Jev is grateful for that. He can’t afford to be hung up on what happened, he has to focus on the now, on the way the hotel key seems to burn as Sam presses it into his hand. 

It was never like this with Daniel, he thinks. Daniel was _safe_ . They had never possessed this level of secrecy - sure, they’d stolen kisses in the back of the garage, petrol and sweat tainting Jev’s nostrils, they’d pressed keys into each other’s palms, had a quick fuck on the balcony in the beginning - but there was no rush, no thrill. Daniel’s hand had found his own that night.  
  
“I think I am falling in love with you,” Daniel had admitted.  
  
Jev remembers his mouth turning dry at the prospect.  
  
“Why?” The word slips out without meaning to.  
  
Daniel worries his lip, playing with the string on his hoodie, the hoodie that he’s worn since he was a teenager, the hoodie that he’d first met Jev in. “I don’t know. All I know is that I love you and I want...I want to take things further,”  
  
Jev knew even back then he shouldn’t have given Daniel false hope. He did love Daniel, but the prospect of being tied to someone forever - would Daniel want marriage? Would he want children with Jev? The thought made the panic stir inside his chest.  
  
“Do you feel the same?” Daniel asks, the question is tentative, it hangs in the air, ready to broken.  
  
Jev had known he should have told Daniel the truth. He wasn’t ready for this. But it’s easier to tell him what he wants to hear.  
  
“Yeah...I love you too,” He murmurs, the words like ash against his tongue.  
  
He sometimes thinks about Daniel - late at night when he’s alone, with his fingers around the glass of whiskey, eyes roving over the amber liquid. It’s been years since they were _something_ .  
  
If they were anything to begin with.  
  
“You alright?” Sam asks later that evening, coiled in the sheets with sweaty hair, freshly fucked. “You seem a little quiet,”  
  
Jev snorts. What can he say? _I’m sorry, I was thinking about my ex boyfriend and about all the mistakes I’ve made?_ _  
_ _  
_ “Just thinking about things,” Jev says, vaguely, his tone signalling an end to the conversation.  
  
“Can make you think about other things,” Sam deadpans, the familiar smirk spreading over his face, his hand dancing down Jev’s boxer shorts. Intent, surprise, spontaneity. Jev craves them and Sam _knows it_ .  
  
They fall back into stolen kisses, into gentle touches that burn like fire.

* * *

  
It’s easy to pretend, at least for now as they settle back into their old ways. Bruised lips and gasps after orgasms become the norm again but Sam’s words remain in the back of Jev’s mind.  
  
_I love you._  
  
It’s easy to pretend there’s nothing else between them when they’re making love - although Jev isn’t sure he should refer to it as that. It’s a release, nothing more. It’s _fucking_ , nothing more, nothing less. That’s what Jev tells himself when Sam is pushing him into the sheets, mouthing at his neck, when they collapse next to each other afterwards, when Sam curls up on his chest with a languid smile. But there’s times when it’s nothing like that. In the mornings, when Sam smiles at him over a pan of bacon, when their fingers brush as he hands him a fresh latte, when their hands tangle together under the table at driver’s meetings.  
  
It’s getting out of control, but Jev can’t bring himself to stop it, to stop this thing between them.

And it’s getting harder. Sam seems to be blossoming at Virgin. He becomes a different person in the car, hard, tough, like titanium. He makes Jev feel fragile, like glass, like fine china. Jev overthinks in the car and it shows, it shows in his performances. He lets Sam get under his skin, thoughts muddled as he watches Sam take advantage of his feelings race after race.  
  
And it hurts. It hurts more than Jev cares to admit.

* * *

  
“I think we should end this,” Jev says, his teeth caught between his lip. They’re curled up in bed together, the sheets resting over them. He dares to glance up at Sam but immediately regrets his decision. Sam is jagged hurt, upset, pain all rolled into one - fury bubbles up on the surface. 

There’s silence.  
  
“Sam-” Jev says, his voice like knives. “I think we should end-”  
  
“I know what you said,” Sam’s voice is pure venom. Jev can picture his heart on the floor - ripped free from his chest, bloody, still beating, still warm -  
  
Jev glances down at the floor. It’s not like that, he reasons, Sam doesn’t love him, this thing between them - undefinable as it is, was never going to last. It’s been decaying since the start, turning grey around the edges, held onto by desperate fingers.  
  
“Why?” Sam whispers and Jev feels the heat of his gaze.  
  
Jev bites down on his tongue. Metallic blood fills the roof of his mouth. It hurts, but it was supposed to, he reasons.  
  
“You can’t even look at me,” Sam’s words burn, burn more than they should.  
  
“I-” Jev begins, his mouth drying, still tasting of blood, of Sam. “We’re never going to be anything, not in the way you want us to be,”  
  
“So what? You have your fun with me and then dump me? Nice going there, mate,” Sam is fury, he is hurt and anger, all sharp edges.  
  
“I don’t love you, not in the way you want me to,” Jev admits.  
  
Sam nods once before snapping back the sheets and grabbing his shirt from the floor. He wrenches it over his head, forces his clothes back on with mechanical movements. Jev watches him helplessly, wanting to say something - _anything_ \- to make it better. But he can’t. Sam’s only answer is that of the door slamming shut.  
  
It feels like a finality. It’s over, done, terminal with no chance of a reunion.

* * *

  
It hurts to be alone. He misses Sam more than he expected. He spends the next race holed up in his hotel room, nursing a glass of the most expensive scotch from the room order menu. He knows he shouldn’t - he loves Paris, thinks about the plans he’d made with Sam a few months before this all happened, about how they were going to go out for dinner. He thinks about how hurt Sam looked, about the glitter of tears in his eyes, about the ache in his chest as he’d left that night. His phone had remained strangely silent throughout their time apart. He’s used to Sam texting him about his day, about him asking to meet up but there’s no chance of that now. 

They’re broken. There’s no chance of a fix. It was never going to end well. Jev downs the rest of the whisky, ignoring the burn against his throat.  
  
He needs a release.

* * *

  
It’s easier than he expected to pick someone up - Jev knows he’s always been blessed with good looks and the guy melts underneath his touch like butter. Blonde hair, blue eyes, short and stocky, anyone would think that Jev had a type - he snorts to himself as he pushes the guy against the wall.  
  
He told Jev his name - Sylvain or something - but Jev doesn’t care. He wants a warm body, to be possessed, to be something once more. Their lips collide as Jev pushes him against the wall, hands fisting into the expensive leather jacket. It should feel electric, passionate, right.  
  
But it doesn’t.  
  
Jev finds himself not caring, his hands wandering over the guy’s body, wanting to touch, aching, craving for something he can’t have - he can always pretend, he’s good at that. Hands fumble over clothing as the kiss turns more heated, as Jev shoves his knee between warm thighs, fingers pinning against wrists with enough force to bruise -  
  
“Someone’s keen,” The guy murmurs against his lips, feeling Jev’s swollen dick against his thigh.  
  
Jev feels the warmth curl in his abdomen, wants it to blossom into the spark, the spark that once ignited him. His hands brush over the guy’s face as he pulls his face towards him, their lips snagging against each other as he loses himself in the warmth, in the closeness of having someone near.  
  
“Sam-” He murmurs, his lips unable to stop the slip.  
  
There’s a pause, everything seems to freeze, the warmth slowly fading away.  
  
“Jean-Eric?” A familiar voice pipes up from behind him.  
  
Jev feels his heart sink as he glances around to see Sam standing behind him with a look that he can’t quite place. He opens his mouth to explain but Sam shakes his head, anticipating such an action and turns on his heel, walking in the opposite direction.  
  
It stings Jev more than he cares to admit.

* * *

  
Sylvain ends up leaving a few moments later. He says he doesn’t want to get involved in domestic affairs and piss off boyfriends of nice-looking guys. Jev doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he and Sam aren’t dating, that it’s complicated and that he’s trying to move on, to get something with no strings attached.  
  
But he can’t so he watches Sylvain walk away as Sam did. It doesn’t hurt as much.  
  
He’s not sure how it happens but he ends up outside Sam’s hotel room - hustled a few of the lads on the crew, made out like Sam had borrowed a pair of his earphones and he needed them back. It was easy enough to do. Fear claws at his chest as he glances at the dark wood, trying not to think about the person on the other side.  
  
He knocks before he can stop himself.  
  
“What do you want, Jean-Eric?” Sam sounds tired. He’s all dark circles under his eyes, worried lines across his brow. He doesn’t suit worry. “Come to show off your new conquest, have we?”  
  
“No, he left, I-” The words don’t come easily to Jev. “I’m sorry,”  
  
“Sorry that I saw you getting off with some weird twin of mine or sorry that you’re an absolute fuck up?” He’s angry and Jev doesn’t blame him.  
  
“Sam, I never meant to hurt you,”  
  
“Doesn’t seem that way,” Sam’s voice is sharp, it’s supposed to hurt. Jev knows it, he deserves it, he supposes.  
  
“It’s true,” Jev’s voice drops lower. “You weren’t a dirty little secret or -”  
  
“Stop lying!” Sam snaps, the glitter of tears in his eyes. “I was nothing to you and I know that,”  
  
“That’s not true,”  
  
“Then tell me what is,” Sam murmurs, moving closer. “Because right now, I can’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth,”  
  
“Sam-” Jev begins. “Just listen to me,”  
  
“Give me one good reason why I should,” Sam spits out, face red with anger.  
  
Jev moves in, his eyes falling on Sam’s lips. “Because, I think it will be worth your while,” He closes the gap between them, his lips connecting with Sam’s. It’s familiar, it’s warm, it feels like home. But that’s not what matters.  
  
Sam kisses him back with equal fevour, with desire, like a man wanting to take his last breath, his hands fisting into Jev’s jacket. It seems to last for a lifetime. Everything slows down, but nothing matters in that moment. Sam’s lips are soft, softer than he remembered and slightly chapped. Jev takes in the scent of Sam - of petrol, of sweat and the obnoxious cologne that he’s in the habit of wearing. He remembers the callouses on Sam’s hands, the tiny scar on his thumb from the karting accident when he was seven.  
  
Sam pulls away suddenly, as though he remembers. “We shouldn’t,” He whispers, looking away. “We shouldn’t do this, it’s wrong,”  
  
“What’s wrong with it?”  
  
“Everything,” Sam says, shaking his head. “We need to give this up, let go-”  
  
“I don’t think I’m ready to do that,” Jev admits, meeting Sam’s eyes.  
  
There’s a flicker of something in Sam.  
  
“Me neither,” Sam whispers, his lips curving into that familiar smirk as he moves closer, mouth meeting with Jev’s once more - like two puzzle pieces connecting - pulling Jev into the hotel room and slamming the door behind them.  
  
It was never going to be over, not without a fight.

* * *

  
Jev feels the pain as his back slams against the door of the hotel room but he doesn’t care. Sam is staring at him - bright blue eyes gleaming in the dim light, lips slick with saliva, a look of desire painted on his face.  

  
Sam moves closer, his eyes darkening. He captures Jev’s lips, as though he owns them, as though they belong to him. They taste like home - like toothpaste and swear, but none of that matters as Sam’s fingers press against his wrist, bruising, marking, claiming. He feels himself falling back into it, damning the consequences.  
  
Sam’s knee forces itself in between his thighs and he feels the warmth curl up his thighs at the contact, his mouth turning dry.  
  
“I want you, right now,” Sam hisses against his lips.  
  
Jev doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t want to break whatever this is between them. He feels his eyes close as Sam’s lips move across his beard, down to the tanned curve of his neck. He can almost sense the electricity between them, like a crackle in the air, a question hanging over them that cannot be answered. Sam’s hands move further down his body, mapping out every inch as though it’s the very first time he’s done it. Teeth scrape against sensitive skin and Jev feels the moan roll from his lips.  
  
“You’re a dick,” The words should sting, but they’re spoken in between kisses to heated skin.

* * *

  
It’s easy to play along with whatever this thing between them is. It’s easy to slip back into the role he’s commanded for the last two years - to fall back into hotel room keys slipped into sweaty palms, to whispered promises, to fucking against whatever surface is available but Jev knows it’s different this time.  
  
He knows he’s falling. He can’t stop himself.  
  
They should break apart, but they don’t. Jev can’t stay away, can’t help himself from staring into Sam’s eyes as they fuck, stroking over his sweaty skin in between rumpled sheets. It’s like Daniel all over again.  
  
He remembers falling into sheets in Monaco, remembers the sting of rough stubble over his cheeks as Daniel had kissed him. Jev had never wanted it to end.  
  
He kisses Sam again. Anything to blur the memories of what once was.  
  
And it’s easy to carry on, to pretend that this thing between them has a shelf life, that there’s a clock hanging over their heads and the time is almost up - yet, they’re both clinging to it with a desperation. The kisses become more heated, the touches more bruising, alcohol-covered tongues, quick blow-jobs in the motorhome - it all blurs into one memory.  
  
It helps Jev forget, forget that he’s fallen in love.

* * *

  
Daniel was different. He and Daniel were never ready for a serious commitment. He was never ready to love Daniel - not in the way he wanted or deserved. Daniel wanted them to be forever. That scared Jev. He didn’t want forever, he wanted the then, the _now_. 

He remembers those brown eyes - they were glassy, hurt, angry that night. They’d just fucked - _again -_ Daniel’s apartment in Monaco, in the king sized bed as they had many times before.  
  
“Did you ever love me?” Daniel’s question is sudden. His voice had cracked on the last word.  
  
Jev had hesitated and that was enough - enough for Daniel to walk away from it all - not that there was much left.  
  
Jev had broken Daniel’s heart and he’d hated himself for that.  
  
“What are you thinking about?” Sam asks, his voice is soft and warm.  
  
Jev looks at him, looks at the butter-milk skin littered with bruises, with bitemarks, looks at the sparkle in the dark blue eyes. “Nothing,” He says, moving closer.  
  
And that’s the truth.

* * *

  
Their lips connect in a lazy kiss. Sam’s hands slowly pull down his sweatshirt, fingers like fire against his skin. Jev closes his eyes, allows himself to be lost in the moment. Sam whispers his name against his lips, calling out like Jev is the only one who can save him. Jev feels the warmth curl inside his chest once more at the sound of Sam. It’s something that’s been a regular occurrence of late and he’s tried to bury it, push the feelings away in a deep corner.  
  
It’s an affair, a fling. It’s nothing. The clock will tick down and the sheets will be cold. They will meet again, but as strangers, as nothing more than that.  
  
Sam fucks Jev that night. His swollen cock presses inside Jev and fills him up, grazes against his prostate and Jev swears that he sees stars. His fingers curl into the bedsheets as Sam thrusts against him, his head thrown back, his skin littered with marks from the blonde’s teeth. He can feel the orgasm trickling against the back of his thighs, pooling into his stomach as Sam shudders against him, as he nips Jev’s collarbone with his teeth.  
  
Jev’s close. He tells Sam so and the blonde responds with a smirk, snapping his hips upwards. Jev feels the warmth swirl over him, his orgasm making the world blur as he gasps out Sam’s name over and over, never wanting the sensation to stop.  
  
Caught in the throes of pleasure, the words slip inside his mind before he can stop them. “I love you…”  
  
The pleasure fades away as Sam’s eyes snap on him - panic, hurt, worry. It’s only then that Jev realises that he’s said the words out loud.  
  
Jev wakes up the next morning to cold sheets, apologies hanging in the air. Sam is gone.

* * *

  
Jev sighs heavily and pushes a hand through his hair as he recounts the events of the night before - of how good the sex was, of Sam’s shocked face as Jev had said those fateful words. Jev knows now how Sam felt, how Daniel felt. It had hurt to watch Sam sprawl out next to him, as far away as he could as though to protect himself. Jev didn’t even see Sam leave, never saw him shove on his clothes haphazardly, never heard the lock click, never saw the tears glistening in Sam’s eyes. 

Sam had told him only a few months earlier that he loved him. What had changed?  
  
Jev worries his lip, his hands slowly brushing over his phone, fingers itching to call Sam, to contact him, to tell him it was all a mistake. But Jev knows himself better than that.  
  
Somewhere between the heated kisses, between scabbed knees from blowjobs, between everything that had happened, he’d fallen in love.

He was _in love with Sam_. 

The traffic is barely audible through the window, wherever they are, whichever city he’s in, he can’t remember. But he swears he can hear his heart shatter in the quiet of the hotel room.

* * *

  
He doesn’t see Sam until the next race in Berlin. Jev remembered this time - only because he counted the days until Sam had to see him again. He looks good. His hair is slightly longer, curling in the summer heat and his racesuit is slightly open, his collar ruffled. Jev has a passing thought, of someone else’s hands on Sam’s collar, of someone else’s lips on him and the sensation hits him square in the chest.  
  
Jealousy stings more than Jev cares to admit. But he pushes it away, pushes away the doubt and swaggers over to Sam, trying to elude confidence. Sam surveys him with guarded eyes and bitten lips.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“I want to talk,” Jev says, trying to be the figure he’s portrayed as in the press - cocky, arrogant, able to get whatever he wants - and he wants nothing more than to shove Sam up against the wall of the garage and suck his cock. He feels the familiar curl of warmth in his thighs at the sheer thought of it.  
  
Sam worries his lip. “Jean-Eric-”  
  
“I just want to talk,” Jev says quietly, his hand moving towards Sam. He presses the object into Sam’s fingers and walks away. Sam glances down at the hotel room key in his hand before his fingers tighten over the metal, still warm from Jev’s hands.

* * *

  
“Wasn’t expecting you to show up,” Jev levels Sam a glance over his glass of scotch. Sam’s lip is caught between his teeth as he surveys the sight of Jev - clothed only in a pair of soft looking pyjama bottoms, hanging precariously low on his hips, his lips slick with alcohol.

“I didn’t want to,” Sam admits. 

“Then why did you come?” Jev asks, raising an eyebrow before he downs the rest of his scotch, setting the glass back on the table in front of him. He pulls himself out of his chair, pretending it’s far more effort than it actually is. He moves closer to Sam, his hand slowly brushing against Sam’s cheek. The blonde’s eyes fall shut and Jev sees the battle dancing across his face. “I think I know the answer to that but-”  
  
Sam’s eyes harden and he pushes Jev’s hand away. “Don’t touch me,”  
  
“You weren’t complaining a month ago,” Jev says, his hand hovering in the air.  
  
“That was different then, things have changed,” Sam says, refusing to look at Jev. _“I’ve_ changed,”  
  
“You’re just saying that to punish me,” Jev replies, shaking his head. “Just because I said I was in love with you. You just don’t want to admit it-”  
  
“I’m seeing someone else!” Sam blurts out and Jev feels the world shift.  
  
“What?” Jev says, his mouth suddenly dry.  
  
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Jev wants to walk out, and he does, out into the cold night.

* * *

  
He doesn’t hear from Sam at all over the next month and in all honesty, he’s not sure he wants to. Sam doesn’t call and Jev tries not to think how much that hurts. He tries to focus on preparing for the last race in London, he trains harder, runs further, anything to take his mind off Sam. He’s been in Oxford for the last few days, sitting at a desk with Mark, glancing over the bright white sheets of the contract, his escape card. 

He doesn’t want to leave Sam but he can’t stand it anymore.  
  
Alex had been understanding when Jev told him of his decision, surveyed the situation with calm eyes, knew that things had been rotten between his drivers for a few months now. But he never knew the whole truth, never knew that Jev and Sam had fucked in his office when Jev had first joined Virgin or that they’d been something once. He didn’t need to know, Jev reasons, because it was all over. Sam was moving on to bigger, brighter things and leaving Jev in the dust behind him.  
  
It’s strangely cold in Oxford that morning, despite it being July, yet Jev feels free for the first time in months. He remembers the pen dancing across the page, as he signed away his future to someone else. He never could stay at Virgin - it was Sam’s _home_ , and Jev wasn’t a part of that anymore. He doesn’t know how to tell Sam that he’s leaving, that he can’t do it anymore.  
  
Jev awakens from a dull slumber in London to hurried knocking against his door. Raising an eyebrow, he goes to open it and finds Sam standing on the other side, with glassy eyes and a heaving chest. Jev’s lips move to speak but he finds the words muddled, falling away from his tongue, from his mind.  
  
“You’re really something, do you know that?” Sam hisses, his face red with anger as he pushes past Jev into the room.  
  
“I don’t know-” Jev begins as he closes the door.  
  
“You don’t have the balls to tell me yourself that you’re leaving. You leave it for Alex to tell me that you’re giving up,” Sam gets up in his face, his eyes still glistening with unshed tears.  
  
“I’m not giving up,” Jev says, his brow furrowing. “I just got a better offer,”  
  
“You got a way out, you mean,” Sam snaps.  
  
“It wasn’t like that,” Jev says, gently.  
  
“Then tell me why,”  
  
“You know why,” Jev stares into deep blue eyes.  
  
Sam doesn’t reply with words, only with his lips. The kiss is hot, heavy, full of all the emotion that Sam wants to convey. Heated and desperate, he licks at the crease of Jev’s lips, his hands moving to yank Jev’s cardigan away as they move closer to the bed. There’s intent there - as well as something else - a desire for there to be one last time, one last roll of the dice. And Jev can’t stop himself from wanting that.  
  
Jev’s shirt falls to the floor, pulled away by Sam’s hands as Sam’s own tight t-shirt follows. Their lips remain connected - Sam’s tongue sliding into Jev’s mouth as he pushes him onto the bed, his hands curling around Jev’s wrists, hard enough to bruise. Jev feels the warmth slowly brushing up his thighs as he feels his cock swell under the thin material of his boxer shorts. Sam tastes of petrol, spices and of sweat, one of his hands moving to curl into Jev’s hair as he deepens the kiss. Jev can feel Sam’s erection against his thigh as they rut against each other, their lips connecting the only sound in the room. The skyline of London glitters through the windowpanes of the hotel room as Jev’s hand slides underneath Sam’s boxer shorts, his fingers grazing against his weeping cock.  
  
Sam exhales heavily against Jev’s mouth before he rips his lips away, moving slowly over Jev’s jawline, down over the curve of his neck as their bodies slide against each other, against the rumpled sheets. They’ve done this so many times before, but this time feels different. This time feels like a goodbye.  
  
Sam’s fingers slowly slip down to Jev’s ass and Jev hisses against him as he circles over the puckered hole, teasing, testing, wondering. “Don’t fuck around,” He murmurs, lips dry from panting.  
  
“I’m not,” Sam says with a smirk, his finger slowly stroking over Jev’s asshole.  
  
Jev groans against him as he slowly pushes a finger inside him. It’s never enough anymore - not now that Jev’s had Sam’s cock inside him - but the mere thought of his cock replacing his fingers is enough for now. His head falls back on the pillows as Sam adds another finger to stretch Jev out - he’s never been one who takes foreplay slowly. And Jev loves that. He loves the rush, the hurried warmth curling over his entire body as Sam stretches him out, his panting sharp breaths cutting through the air.  
  
“I want you right now,” Sam whispers, his eyes dark like onyx.  
  
Jev can’t say no. “So do I,” are the words that leave his drying lips.  
  
He can say nothing as Sam pushes inside him, his fingers gripping into Sam’s back, hard enough to bruise. He can feel the warmth curling over his body, shaking slightly at the sensation of being filled. Sam only replies with a sated smile as he begins to thrust into Jev. It’s slow, hot, heavy, their breathily sighs the only sound erupting from the room. Jev’s fingernails dig deeper as Sam picks up his pace, electricity sparking between them.  
  
He thrusts into Jev, his lip caught between his teeth as he stares down at the sight underneath him - of Jev debauched, sweaty, hungry for him.  
  
“Harder. Don’t stop-” Jev says in clipped tones, his voice hoarse and dry.  
  
Sam leans in and presses kisses against Jev’s neck, his tongue mapping over the sweaty skin, the salt pressing over his tongue as he fucks his lover - wanting, no - needing him to fall apart.  
  
And Jev does eventually. His fingers loosen on Sam’s back as he feels the orgasm build, as his muscles spasm, pleasure flooding through his entire body. Sam mouths words that he can’t remember against the sweaty skin as he follows Jev into orgasm, jolting against his lover’s body. They lay there for a moment as their orgasms subside, as the feelings wash over them before Sam leans in and brushes a soft kiss against Jev’s forehead.  
  
It feels like a goodbye.  
  
It probably is, Jev reasons, as he watches the limp condom drop into the bin and Sam curls around him, their bodies closing together for the last time.

* * *

  
Sam leaves Jev’s hotel room the next morning without saying goodbye. Jev’s chest aches as he wakes up in between cold sheets, without a warm body next to his own. His fingers fist into the bedclothes, as he tries to imagine Sam in front of him, wearing his trademark sated smile. But the memory fades away as quickly as it came, as reality slowly begins to sink in. Sam is gone, as though he was never there to begin with. 

  
The marks left on Jev’s hips and his swollen lips tell him otherwise.

* * *

  
London is a blur to Jev - he barely remembers the race, barely remembers driving - his thoughts on the man who shares his garage, the man who barely spares him a glance. It hurts him more than he thinks it would. He has to move on, he has to draw a line under everything that happened.  
  
But it’s not so easy. Jev finds himself glancing at his phone, his thumb hovering over the keyboard. The words come easy enough - _I miss you, I don’t want this to end, I never wanted to hurt you, I love you_ \- but he never sends them. He tries not to think about Sam, about their last time together. He doesn’t want to believe that it’s the last time that he’ll ever touch Sam, that they will ever explore each other’s bodies. He doesn’t want to believe that.  
  
But Sam has made his choice. He’s with _her_ now - there’s photos on his instagram, of him looking happy - happier than he ever did by Jev’s side. He’s nothing but a stranger to Jev now. Sam is someone that Jev used to know, used to love - but he _can’t_ \- he still loves Sam, down to his core. He was too late. Sam didn’t love him anymore - did he ever love Jev? Who could ever love him?  
  
His hand tightens around his phone, his lip caught between his teeth. He knew that it never could last - that the thing between them was like a fire, it was damned from the beginning - to burn bright before it was extinguished, before they picked themselves apart from the ashes.  
  
It doesn’t hurt any less, however.

* * *

  
Jev settles in Techeetah, tries to forget about the past, becomes the forged titanium that the outside world see him as. He retires in Hong Kong. The alcohol burns his tongue and loosens his lips that night. He ends up calling Sam drunk and listening to his answerphone message three times, pleading with him to give them a chance, to rethink his decision, to stop the inevitable ending. It doesn’t make him hate himself any less as he wakes up the next morning to a silent phone and a dry mouth.  
  
They’re not supposed to be the disappointment but they’re not supposed to be forever either.  
  
He thinks about Daniel on the flight back to Monaco. He thinks about what they could have been, if only Jev wasn’t so intent on throwing it all away. He thinks about the way Daniel smiled as they lay in bed together, the curve of his lips as he went down on him, the way his mouth had captured Jev’s, as though it were meant to be. He almost texts Daniel when he’s half drunk - but saves the messages instead, views them when he’s sober.  
  
_I miss you. I want you back. I want to be your only one._ _  
_ _  
_ Daniel and Sam are like polar opposites. They both loved Jev in different ways, both fiercely and deeply, but it wasn’t enough. Jev just wanted the desire, the quick fix, the easy burn until there was nothing left but ashes.  
  
And he’s paying the price.  
  
He sleeps with Mitch in Marrakech. It’s a nothing fling, a way to let off some steam. Mitch is young and eager with wide eyes and a smirk curving over his lips as he takes Jev in his mouth, as he allows himself to be pinned against rumpled sheets, as he allows Jev to unravel next to him. Jev tries not to think about Sam as his orgasm washes over him, as Mitch calls out his name and his body shakes to some invisible rhythm.  
  
But he does. The name almost slips past his lips before he catches himself.

* * *

  
Jev fumbles through until the Christmas break, thankful for a month or two away from the travel lifestyle, away from work and statistics and broken team radios. Christmas. The signal of the end of another dying year. A year Jev wants to forget. It’s how they began and how they will end.

Jev’s at his mother’s house again, like routine, like normality. The alcohol is faded on his lips as he scans through his phone - notices Daniel spending Christmas with his new boyfriend, Sam with _her_ . He opens up a new message before he stops himself, throws his heart into every single word.  
  
_I miss you. Things were better with you and you made me lose myself. I’m glad you found someone who makes you happy and my only regret is not telling you that I love you. Merry Christmas._ _  
_ _  
_ They were happy once, but happiness has a tendency to walk out after a few too many mistakes. They’re nothing but cold sheets in the past, a fire extinguished. _  
_  
His finger hovers over the send button, a smile slowly spreading over his face.

* * *

_This is how it ends  
                                                                                I feel the chemicals burn in my bloodstream. _


End file.
